Rain Under the Umbrella
by moonselector
Summary: Because he looked at her like they both should know better than to expect that kind of strength from a frail little girl. [Leia/Jude. Pre-game.]


**Title:** Rain Under the Umbrella  
 **Pairing:** Leia/Jude, Jude/Milla  
 **Timeframe:** Some years pre-game, up until Leia rejoins the party.  
 **A/N:** Just wanted to get my feelings out re: Jude and Leia's relationship. Repost from ao3.

* * *

She used to be afraid, when she was young.

Younger—after the accident, when moving her legs had felt like dragging sandbags across mud, muscles agonizing with every step, like a fire had been lit under her skin. It was scary, learning how to walk again, and Leia had to hold onto her mother to steady herself, like a baby would, knuckles digging at her prickling eyes when she thought Sonia wouldn't see.

But the worst part wasn't the pain, not really. It was the terrifyingly real possibility that she wasn't, would never be strong enough to handle it, to remember to move the way she used to.

But even on her bad days, when the uncertainty shadowed her thoughts, she would remember to pull the muscles on her face into something like hope, clinging to that easy, familiar emotion. Would remember that she wasn't doing this just for herself, but for her mother and father and Jude, too—the boy who'd see through her placating smile and return it with a worried one of his own; the look in his eyes making her blood burn—because he looked at her like they both should know better than to expect that kind of strength from a frail little girl.

She wanted so badly to prove him wrong.

But she had a lot of things to fear back then. And sometimes—

Sometimes, even when Jude was around—caring and studious and _there_ , a constant presence ready to roll his eyes and comfort her and patch up her wounds when she fell, putting what he'd learned to the test—even when he was there, which was always, she couldn't help but feel like she was right to be afraid.

She didn't know why, only that she was, and she wondered if one day it would be too much to bear. If fear was simply pain under a different name.

But she never asked, and Jude kept watching over her, burying his nose into his books between their training, always looking for the slightest sign of falter on her body, so that he could drop his fists and come rushing to catch her. And she wanted to prove him wrong, wanted to beat him—and it wasn't like there was anything else she could do, so—

So Leia dried her eyes, told herself not to worry, and pushed on.

–

The feeling lingered, resurfacing every so often from its place in the back of her mind, but she learned, eventually, taught herself ways to ignore it, and figured it was just as good. Her treatment concluded, and enough time had passed that she'd begun to keep count of her sparring victories against him—one of the things she could hold over his head with confidence now—and it pleased her far more than her loud proclamations of triumph could convey.

"You're sure way more lively these days," Jude said, nursing his sore spots after a game of tag ended in her tackling him hard to the ground. His own fault, she thought, for being too slow to react. "Too much. To be honest, I wonder if I liked you better before you started beating me up as a pastime."

"Hey," Leia huffed, "I'm healthy for the first time in years, and _that's_ what you have to say?" She grinned, feeling the brightness of the sun getting to her bones, soaking it up.

But there was that fond glint in his eyes that told her he was glad beneath it all, and she had to giggle, getting up and stretching and asking him if she wanted to come inside, it was lunchtime and her father was no doubt making something. She didn't want him to come home quite yet, and all that studying he'd been doing couldn't be good for him, anyway. He ought to thank her for dragging him out.

"Okay. I hope your mother doesn't mind, though."

"She loves you. Sometimes I wonder if she'd rather have Mr. Goody Two-Shoes over here as her kid."

She watched him for a moment before making her way into her house, looking at him trailing after her from the corner of her eye. Though she wouldn't admit it, she liked the feeling of him following her, like he would whenever they walked to school together and she made a race out of it, stomping fiercely past him as he grumbled about her competitive nature. It meant she wouldn't have to give chase, meant she wouldn't be left behind.

The thought made her heart race, and she pretended it to be the fault of some cloying, girlish emotion, rather than the uneasy memory of the dreams she used to have, before: of Jude standing in her doorway, about to leave, suitcases packed and professional-looking jacket thrown on, making him look frightfully mature, less like a crybaby and more the bright young man he'd grown into while she hadn't looked.

He would say his goodbyes and she would watch him go, stepping away from Leronde's shadow and away from _her,_ a girl so pale and weak she could hardly stand, and she ought to have asked, what use would someone like her have for him? Why had she deluded herself into thinking she had a place in his future—because they'd known each other once, as children?

How stupid. Of course he'd have better things to do than wait on her.

Then Leia would wake up, feeling cold, and she'd pretend she didn't know what it was that she'd been afraid of all this time.

–

She didn't have the dreams anymore, but she thought about it, sometimes.

But things were okay, weren't it? She was fine, now. Her limbs were lighter, her lungs more powerful than ever before, and she could walk again, run even, faster than she'd ever done, jump higher than she had as a kid. And she wasn't a little kid anymore. So—so if Jude ever left, when the day came—she could always follow. It'd be easy.

Her faith was a buoy, keeping her afloat, and she had no choice but to hold on.

And she always had known he was going to go. Jude's test scores put him in a comfortable spot on the school's honor roll, and his father mentioned his plans for the future often and loudly enough that no amount of his son's evasive humility could make anyone doubt that he would leave Leronde one day, to finish his education in the capital. It wasn't even a question, Leia figured. He was smart enough, and hardworking, and whatever faults he had could be patched up with his abundance of good-natured earnestness that she knew well. He wasn't the type a small place like Leronde would let flourish.

She knew, and so while he was still here, at arm's reach, she figured it wouldn't hurt to—

Well. If anything else, it would be a good excuse.

–

"A nurse? You?" Jude raised an eyebrow at her suggestion, his pen hovering over the incomplete equation. She'd missed a lot of school when she'd been healing, and her mother had insisted she have him help her catch up—despite her insistence otherwise. She hadn't wanted to give him more fuel to make fun of her with. "That's new. I was kind of expecting something more… exciting. Rowdy?" he ventured, "Considering it's you. Not healthcare."

She shot him a sharp look, indignant at his casual skepticism. "What kind of response is that! _"_ Leia said, unimpressed, but what she meant was, _I didn't even know what I wanted to do before you told me you wanted to become a doctor._ "What do you mean, 'rowdy'!? You're so presumptuous! Saving lives is a very noble goal, what's wrong with that?"

I thought you'd be happy.

"Nothing," he backed off, moving to shield her incoming fist with a book, then lowered his head. He sighed. "It's just, I was surprised. You never… mentioned it."

She took too long to reply, righting her thoughts. "Well, it's not too late. Your parents already approved me to study under them. Your mother seemed to look forward to it."

He deflated, "No one tells me anything in this house, do they?"

"No," she beamed, leaning across the living room table. "I guess you're gonna be seeing a lot more of me from now on."

"I literally don't think that's possible." Jude rolled his eyes, his lack of amusement clear, and Leia stuck her tongue out at him to hide the silent relief simmering palpably in her chest.

–

"Just a little more," she grit her teeth, gripping the edge of the tall shelf as the chair beneath her wobbled, shook, and finally, "There—whoa!"

"Leia!" Dropping the box of medicine he'd been carrying, Jude moved to catch her shoulders with a quickness she hadn't expected. The wooden chair banged onto the floor as it toppled, and she breathed tightly, chest pounding with nervous energy. It'd felt, for a moment, like one of her legs had given way. "Hey, easy. You almost hurt yourself there."

She let herself lean against him for a second longer, and it occurred to her that she hadn't registered him touching her, at first. She'd expected—something. Butterflies, maybe, or the pinprick of embarrassment rushing hotly up her cheeks, the giddy feeling people whispered about in books, but she merely pulled herself steady, righted herself a little clumsily. Her eyes darted guiltily at the cardboard box lying on the floor, the upturned chair. "Oops?"

"You always try too hard to be helpful," he said. Concern returned to his amber eyes, "Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine!" She fidgeted. He'd grown taller, she registered vaguely. Maybe she wasn't as good at paying attention as she thought. "Quit staring at me like that. I was distracted."

"Sometimes I wonder if it was a good idea to have you help us out," he said.

"It's been over a year, Jude. I'm just as healthy as any other kid." Her voice was firm, and her hand had unconsciously found its way to her waist. Her sleeve slackened, exposing the swollen splotch of red, and in an instant he was taking hold of her wrist, examining the tender wound.

"I knew it. You're hurt."

"It was this morning," she explained, nervous under his inspection, "I was helping my dad make stew, and burnt myself a little. It's no big deal—really. It stung while I was reaching up the shelf, and…"

"Don't I always tell you to be careful?" His gaze turned to hers, his warm hand remaining loosely wrapped around her wrist. He'd never think about being forceful, Leia considered, feeling bitter. Jude, her best friend, he'd never think he was restraining her. He sighed, "You never listen."

Her mouth curving into a frown, she blurted out, "Neither do you." And she felt an irrational longing for the frustration bleeding from her words just then, already dissolving. Sometimes she thought if she could stay angry at him, she would.

Jude let go, shrugging, and grabbed something from the box. "I'll tell Dad where the extra bandage went. Here, give me your hand."

"Thanks," Leia said blandly, and did so.

–

The days flowed by them as easily as water, until it was the week leading up to Jude's departure, and as she helped fold his clothes to pack and throw out the old things in his room he didn't need, she found herself feeling less sad than she'd expected. She told herself she must've been preparing herself for this—had been building her heart a fortress leading up to the eventuality.

But he stayed over for one last dinner the evening before leaving, and when she saw how happy he was, how he beamed as he modestly fielded her parents' questions, there was that part of her again, snaring her in, making her choke inside, even as she put on her best smile and wished him good luck with his studies.

She was happy for him, truly. There was the clinic, after all, and she could always write to him. And if all else failed, there were the memories.

And—Leia reminded herself—if it ever got too much, she could always take the boat. She could just follow him. The city couldn't be _that_ dangerous, and she was strong enough for that now, weren't she? The thought calmed her, letting her sleep soundly through the night, and when she said goodbye to him at the harbor the next morning, Leia folded her arms imperiously and demanded, "You better answer my letters, okay? Don't have so much fun in Fennmont that you forget all about me!"

"After all those times you whacked me upside the head with that stick? I don't think I could, even if I wanted to."

"Well, _that's_ reassuring." She blinked; stared at her shoes. "Just… be safe out there, alright?"

"I don't need to hear that from you," Jude said, but nodded, and stepped towards the boat. He looked over his shoulder, smiled. "Thanks, Leia."

She stayed even after his parents had gone ahead, waving at him and staring long after the boat had become a dot against the sea's fierce waves, drowned out by the vivid blue. Then, after she was sure it was gone, she swallowed her unsaid words, tasted the cowardice and disappointment on her tongue. Felt the bitter-salt of the breeze hit her as she let her smile upend.

–

She didn't know what to ask him. There was so much ground to cover, so little paper, and she had no idea where to begin. How was school? The city? Were the lessons hard to keep up with? Had he made new friends? Was he seeing someone already—but it was _Jude_! She shook her head, there was no way…

The paper faltered beneath her hand, tearing.

Frowning, Leia blotted out her opening line, and crumpled her indecision into a ball, into the trash. She didn't know—but did she even _want_ to know?

So, of course, she didn't ask.

–

And the truth was, she hadn't expected him to write back. Not really. So when he didn't, when she kept writing anyway, she told herself she wasn't disappointed—wasn't hurt—and tucked the next useless message into its envelope.

–

"I want to help her," Jude admitted, stepping out of the clinic with her after they'd gone to check on Milla for the day. "My dad doesn't understand, but—you do, right? You saw how determined she was. Even if the whole world were against us, I want her to see it through to the end." His gaze was heavy with desperation, but his irises shone with a resolve she hadn't recognized in him before. It made her pause.

"I," Leia started haltingly, leaning against the fence. "I guess I do," she said, and it surprised her to realize she'd meant it, and she wasn't entirely talking about the spyrix.

But Jude wasn't looking at her anymore, already lost in thoughts about Maxwell and conspiracies and the king's plan to wage war, and as Leia looked away, she couldn't help but wonder who the clueless one really was between them both.

–

Milla being the Lord of Spirits was an unbelievable story to buy, so Leia supposed that was why accepting how infatuated Jude was with her had been easier, a less bitter pill to swallow than she expected. It was obvious, really, and she wasn't just talking about the curves, the slender legs, or even the carelessly bared midriff; it was the way Milla barely grimaced when the pain of the aspyrixis flooded through her, the matter-of-fact way she spoke of her mission and what she had to do, her voice clear with a vivid determination Leia was certain she would never be able to emulate.

"I wish there was something more I could do for her," Jude told her, and Leia cursed her apologetic smile, the only thing she had to offer.

It was so very obvious, she thought. Considering him, Jude would probably be the last to know. But that didn't stop it from stinging.

"What about me?" she said. "What about what I can do for you?" Realizing what she'd blurted out, she scrambled, "I can fight, you know. Better. I've had a lot of practice while you were gone."

His eyes narrowed, "Leia. It's not funny. What would I say to your parents?"

"I'll convince them somehow. They'll get it."

"Maybe," he sighed, "But I don't want to drag you into this. It's dangerous."

"You sound like you're so much older and wiser than me. You're not," her voice rose with irritation. "I'm not like I used to be, you know. Take me with you. I want to help. How come _you_ get to go out and risk your life, but I can't?"

"What kind of justification is _that_?" he scolded. "Think it over for a moment. Do you really want to go? For what? What if you get hurt? After all the time you've spent getting better—"

"What about you?" Leia questioned, syllables edged with frustration. "What stake do _you_ have in this?"

When Jude's evasive silence answered for him, Leia understood. And she realized she'd never learned not to be afraid of being left behind.

–

Sneaking onto the boat went more smoothly than she expected. The barrel was cramped, but it had room to breathe, and she didn't carry much with her, anyway. She had to bend her knees to fit in, and her legs would give her hell for it later, but she knew a thing or two about patience, and the importance of sacrifice, of necessary pain. The waves shook the boat, sudden and rough, and Leia felt herself go dizzy, but caught herself in time, breathing hard.

She wasn't scared. She was fine. If Jude could be brave enough, then so could she.

She had her pen and notebook with her, and there was a crack on the wooden lid, letting a sliver of sunlight in. Leia squinted, and clutching onto the paper's edge, she began to write feverishly.

 _I'd hate to see Jude get hurt,_ the first line said, in her scrawl of a handwriting he would make fun of her for. That was right, she thought. That was what she was here for. Somehow, the thought of her needing to be there to protect him made her feel less afraid.

Like she had a purpose, for once.

Leia read it once, then twice, three times. She smiled, and pressed the words close against her chest.


End file.
